History Will Be Kind To Me
by Somewhere In the Clouds
Summary: ...for I intend to write it. A modern-insert/girl-falls-into-Middle-Earth fic. Chapter Two rewrite has been posted!
1. The Lost Girl

**A/N:** The title of this fic comes from the quote by Winston Churchill, "_History will be kind to me for I intend to write it_." And boy is there going to be some rewriting of history. First of all, this fic is set roughly 20 years before the events of the War of the Ring. Our protagonist's introduction alone will alter the original timeline and anything she does afterwards…well, let's just say this isn't going to be a rehash of every other modern-insert fic I've seen. Alice will not be a tenth walker and she isn't going to experience the exact same events as those in the books and movies. There is so much to explore in Middle Earth besides the _ending_ chapter of its history.

As some of you might have noticed, I rewrote the first chapter. It's much longer and far more fleshed out than its predecessor. The plan is to rewrite (and condense) all of the chapters posted thus far before posting the newest installment.

**History Will Be Kind To Me**

"Not only do I not know what's going on, I wouldn't know what to do about it if I did." - _George Carlin_

**01. The Lost Girl**

Alice went through all five stages of grief in less than an hour. She screamed. She ranted. She cried. And finally, she was numb. She hadn't felt this empty and alone since the day her uncle had died.

And boy was she _ever_ alone.

Grass stretched for miles and miles. Golden grass and green grass and every color in between. So much grass…but no _people_. No _animals_. Not a _single_ godforsaken sign of _civilization_. Alice felt an insect crawl its way up her thigh but she was too morose to bother flicking it away. Somewhere she could hear the trickle of a stream. Ever the practical girl, Alice distantly recalled reading that water always led to civilization. Then again…this was not a practical situation.

How did she get here?

She'd given up on it being 'just a dream' sometime after stubbing her toe on a rock. Her foot throbbed in response, as if reminding her that _yes_, she had _indeed_ woken up barefoot in the middle of nowhere. As if she could _forget_. Maybe she'd been drugged and left here to die by someone? One of her father's unsavory associates perhaps? Alice shuddered. Now _that_ idea was far less easy to reject than the first. Sometimes she wished she had never discovered what her father did for a living.

Alice decided now was as good a time as any to break down and cry. Into the better part of the afternoon.

The sun began its slow descent towards the horizon and Alice struggled to ignore the pangs of hunger in her belly and the chill of the evening breeze against her bare skin. She was still in her pajamas, or what passed for them anyway. Someone was going to be _quite_ surprised when they found her dressed only in a raggedy t-shirt and her underwear.

_If_ they found her.

She wanted to cry again, but Alice found that she she had no more tears to give. "What am I going to do?" she whispered, curling in upon herself.

She continued to ask herself that question until the encroaching night finally swallowed the sun whole.

* * *

Whoever had said things looked better in the morning was clearly a goddamn liar.

Alice awoke to aching limbs, itching bug-bites, and a thirst so insistent that she had all but crawled to the nearby stream and dunked her head in like the animal she was. She certainly felt like one. It was only later that she gave any thought to whatever number of bacteria or viruses that probably plagued such an open water source, even one as clean as this one tasted. Unfortunately she couldn't choose to be picky at a time like this so she chose instead to ignore the thought of dysentery and enjoy the feel of cold water coating her throat.

She tried to walk along the bank of the stream for a while, but eventually it became obvious that she wasn't going anywhere without some form of footwear. Alice bid the sleeves and hem of her t-shirt farewell as she struggled valiantly to rip them off and tie them onto her feet. It wasn't much, but it provided at least some sort of barrier between her soft bare soles and the rough ground. It still hurt like hell when she stepped on a rock though.

The grass scratched at her legs as she gingerly tread along the bank. She could feel her skin sizzle in the beating sun. Alice didn't even want to imagine the picture she made. A half-naked teenager, barefoot, hair matted, and probably smelled like she hadn't showered in days. The thought did little to boost her self-esteem.

She kept walking.

And walking.

And _walking…_

_Jesus_, just how far did this stupid stream _go_? And the best part was the landscape hadn't changed _at all_. Alice grudgingly spent another night out in the open, swiping at the bugs trying to nest in her hair. The grass made for a scratchy bed, though better cushioned than the rocky bank nearby at least. A wolf howled in the distance and Alice shivered, all too aware of her perilous position alone under the stars.

And the stars! Alice had never seen so many stars in her life! And so _bright_! Growing up under the smog of Boston, she was lucky to ever catch a glimpse of more than a few. The constellations were all _wrong_ though. Fruitlessly, she tried to pick out the Big Dipper or Orion's Belt, but the stars seemed only a jumbled mess to her.

_That's weird_, she thought, unsettled.

She slept little that night.

The following day turned out to be as miserable as the one before it. The temperature climbed from uncomfortably cool to unbearably humid and Alice, sorely unprepared for such weather, soon found herself becoming stickier and more rank by the hour. Period dips in the stream helped, though she despaired over her hair. Today, of all days, she wished she'd taken more after her mother's side of the family. Perhaps then her hair wouldn't quickly be turning into a matted mess. Alice vowed that the moment she got home, she was going to use an entire bottle of conditioner and de-tangler spray to salvage it. If she was really lucky, she might not have to chop it all off. It was _that_ fear that distracted her from the more insistent hunger pains and blistered feet.

She pressed on.

Come afternoon, it seemed that her initial instincts had been proven right. Just before nightfall, she came upon the overgrown remnants of an abandoned shack. There was no one there of course, but at this point Alice was grateful just to have shelter for the night. Though it was a paltry shelter, to be sure, what with its crumbling walls and nonexistent roof. But then, even those things seemed agreeable when Alice discovered the treasure trove hidden amongst the brambles on the other side of the shack.

"Blackberries!" It was the first word she'd spoken aloud since her breakdown nearly two days ago.

Blackberry bushes climbed up the side of the ruined wall like ivy and a hardy apple tree stood nearby, its fruit green and immature. Alice was by no means a religious person but that evening she thanked every higher power she could think of as she all but gorged herself on the sour fruit. Either someone (or something) was looking out for her or she was the luckiest unlucky idiot alive. With a full belly and walls surrounding her, sleep came easy and Alice didn't awaken again until the sun had long risen.

* * *

Alice spent the better part of the following afternoon mulling over what to do next. She had spied a forest a couple miles off to the north, but the stream veered away from it and Alice wasn't sure she could afford to ditch her only water source. There was little in the way of supplies amongst the ruined hut; the most she'd found were a few shards of broken pottery and a bedraggled piece of burlap. The pottery shards were useless to her, but the burlap was turned into a makeshift sack to carry all the apples she'd picked that morning. It sat studiously against the wall as Alice mulled over her options. Not that she had many. Either she could linger amongst shelter, where food and water were plentiful but rescue unlikely, or Alice could venture forward where the was no guarantee of food or shelter, and rescue was just as unlikely.

Decisions, decisions.

Unfortunately, the decision was eventually made _for_ her.

It was still dark out when she heard it.

After four days alone, the sound of speaking seemed almost foreign to her ears, but nonetheless, when Alice heard the stamping of feet and the arguing of _people_ she was startled awake as if by the shot of a gun. She scrambled to her feet, peering over the weathered stone of the wall eagerly. About a dozen or so figures stood on the other side of the stream. They seemed to be arguing, though they were too far away for Alice to make out any actual words.

She opened her mouth, ready to shout to get their attention…

Something whistled past her ear. One of the dark shapes fell to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. At least two more dropped before the other figures began to shriek, swinging their…were those…_swords_?!

Alice screamed.

One of the figures swung its head around in surprise and splashed its way across the stream, heading in her direction. As it drew close, Alice could just make out its features in the moonlight and she felt her heart stop.

It was a _monster_.

Even in the gloom of night she could see that its skin was a sickly shade of gray and its eyes glinted in the dark. Its face twisted into a grotesque snarl as it charged towards her like a rabid animal. Alice yelped, clamoring away from the wall only for her back to meet another. She was trapped. Her heart felt like it was attempting to beat its way out of her ribcage.

The monster never made it over the wall.

Alice heard the other creatures scream a few more times and than everything grew deathly silent. She didn't breathe. Something had killed those…things. Perhaps it would kill her too.

Whispers carried on the wind, too faint to make out.

She waited.

A shadowed silhouette appeared in the doorway. It was a man. He drew forward slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. Alice couldn't blame him. She probably looked like one. And then he stepped into the moonlight and her breathe caught in her throat. He was…beautiful. He was tall, taller even than Alice's father and his skin _glowed_. Inky dark hair fell well past his shoulders and he wore the _strangest_ clothing…he spoke to her softly, his voice almost song-like. Alice frowned.

_What the hell was he saying_? He wasn't speaking German, and he most certainly wasn't speaking English either.

"What?" Alice choked, her voice cracking from disuse.

The man spoke again, whispering lovely, yet foreign words.

"I don't understand," she tried again. "Ummm…America?" Surely he'd understand _that_…right?

But the man only stared at her with those star-like eyes and an unreadable expression upon his face. He took a step closer and for all his beauty and unthreatening demeanor, Alice flinched, feeling her throat tighten uncomfortably. He slowed, but didn't stop, and crouched down before her, tilting his head to the side like a cat. Even his eyes glinted in the dark like a cat's.

"I just want to go home," Alice whispered, miserable and shivering. She felt her throat tighten. In fact, it tightened _almost as if_…she panicked…_and proceeded to vomit all over the man's boots_.

And then she passed out.

* * *

"She is so…" Celírion searched for the right word, gazing down upon the human woman with unconcealed curiosity. He had never gazed upon any human but the Lord Aragorn before, and _he_ was never so… "_Dark_." he finished, eyeing her distinct _lack_ of appropriate attire. Where did a woman such as she come from that such clothing was considered _proper_? Then, as if an afterthought, he added, "Are all humans so?"

"No." Ruinthir replied with a frown. "Only have I ever glimpsed such dark people in the far south, further even than Gondor."

"That is far indeed," said Aegol, glancing at the girl once and then back to his captain. "What shall be done with her?"

Ruinthir was silent for a moment, eyes trained steadily upon the unconscious girl. He frowned again, still somewhat chagrined from her unforeseen display earlier. It would take days to wash the smell from his boots.

Finally, he sighed.

"The Lady _did_ mention a guest at our border."

Celírion laughed. "And such a guest!" Only _he_ would be so _enthusiastic_ to receive such a stranger into their home. At least, he was until his superior told him that _he_ would be the one to carry the half-naked woman on their trip back.

* * *

For the first time in nearly a week, Alice awoke in a bed. On an honest to god _mattress_. With _sheets_. And _pillows_! Though it didn't take her very long at all to realize that it wasn't _her_ bed. And she wasn't in _her_ room. She blinked groggily, glancing around. Her first thought was that she'd been dropped into a very unorthodox, open-air infirmary with a vaulted ceiling, glassless elongated windows, and rows and rows of beds pressed along the lengthy high stone walls. At the very end of the room she spied a stylized doorless archway. Her second thought was that she'd never seen an infirmary look _quite_ like this one did. It was too…_earthy_. Nothing _at all_ like the sterile environment she'd experienced when visiting her uncle.

Alice scrubbed at her eyes, only to notice that she was wearing a _very_ old-fashioned looking white night gown. It had the billowy sleeves and _everything_. It took only a cursory examination of her person to come to the realization that her own clothes were gone, _including_ her underwear. In just _what_ particular hell had she woken up to that she was forced to wear her great-great-a-thousand-times-great-grandmother's night gown?

She wracked her brain, remembering all too well her distressing journey out in the middle of nowhere, and then there were…_monsters_?

Okay, _clearly_ she was going fucking crazy. And yet…she could still see those iridescent yellow eyes staring at her. If this was what going nuts felt like, Alice wanted no part in it.

Suddenly, a voice broke her from her thoughts and Alice's head snapped up so quickly she heard her neck crack. A woman stood at the foot of her bed, and yet…she was more akin to a photoshopped _image_ of a woman. Her pale skin was _too_ smooth, too _flawless_, and her hair shone like strands of gold silk, catching the light _just_ so. When the lady smiled at her, Alice could only notice her unnaturally perfect white teeth.

Alice suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious.

"Ummm…hi?" was all she could say, awed and breathless.

The lady watched her steadily, tilting her head just a fraction like a cat who'd come across something peculiar. Her eyes were so…blue. Like a clear summer sky. And then she opened her mouth…_and nonsense came out_. Oh it was _beautiful_ nonsense, to be sure, but completely incomprehensible nonetheless.

Alice groaned. Perhaps that whole fiasco with that strange man really _did_ happen. She _really_ didn't want to think about what that meant for her.

"_Ich bin Alice?_" she tried halfheartedly. The woman stared at her politely, though uncomprehendingly. Well, that was a 'no' then.

"_Hola ¿cómo estás?_" Okay, also no.

"_Parlez-vous français?_" Well French was out then.

"_Nǐ hǎo?_" Alright, now she was just grasping at straws.

Each language was met with an equally kind, but oblivious stare. Alice switched back to English, "America? U.S.A.? Obama? Disneyland? Hollywood? Umm…Lady Gaga? No, nothing?" Defeated, Alice flopped down onto the nearest bed with a huff.

Well _this_ was going to be a problem.

* * *

It was days before Alice got any answers.

She soon came to find that life was extraordinarily frustrating without the ability to communicate. Here she was, finally surrounded by people (all very, _very_ attractive, _pointy-eared_ people…she was _still_ trying to process that last part), and yet she had never felt more alone. She was well taken care of, that was indisputable at least. Whoever her ethereal caretakers were, they were incredibly accommodating. Meals were brought three times a day and, after her time spent out in the wild, Alice treated every occasion with the enthusiasm of a starving man. And _such food_ she ate! Warm crusty bread and soft cheeses, succulent peaches and crisp apples, soft boiled eggs and thick sweet stew, and everything always served with a mug of hot mint tea. She had never tasted more delicious food in her life. Except maybe chocolate.

_God_ she missed chocolate. Also cheesecake. And avocados.

In fact, Alice had begun craving many of the things she'd eaten back home. One night she'd woken up with the fiercest of longings for ice-cream. Unfortunately refrigeration didn't seem to exist here and she'd been left frustrated and her attendants confused at her sudden grumpy mood. She survived, though was left rather bad-tempered. Oh sweet ice-cream, where for art thou?

Faendis (it had taken much arm-flailing just to finally get her name. Alice very well couldn't keep calling her 'that pretty blonde lady') took her out of the infirmary sometimes. Of course, first she'd had to coax Alice into a very pretty, if severely old-fashioned dress. The long sleeves and floor-length hem did little to keep her cool in the heat of mid-June, but she was more than happy to get the chance to stretch her legs and so willingly endured the stifling gown for an hour or two every afternoon.

Her first trip out had left her rather puzzled. She'd _thought_ she was in some sort of third-world village that prided itself on modesty and simplicity, like a European version of the Amish communities back home. But there were _no_ farmhouses, _no_ domesticated animals, just massive redwood-like trees and vibrant green undergrowth. It took Alice a good long while before she'd noticed that the houses were _in_ the trees. But that in itself had left her with even more questions than she'd started with. Still…those tree-houses seemed…_familiar_.

And then, one day, _she_ showed up.

It was at the end of one of her daily outings that a very strange visitor came to visit. And what a creature she was! Tall and fey and more beautiful than anyone she'd ever seen. Alice had experienced many things that had left her speechless in the last week but all of them seemed paltry in comparison. The lady sat beside her and Alice made the greatest of efforts not to stare.

"Hi," she said stupidly, before she could stop herself. But the lady didn't seem to mind and only smiled kindly.

Okay, now she was _definitely_ staring.

"I don't suppose you know English?"

The lady replied in her lovely, yet still very alien language. Well, that was a 'no' then.

And then she held out her hand. It was smooth and unadorned but for a single silver ring. Alice stared at it. Did she want her to shake it? Awkwardly, the girl took hold of the woman's hand and shook it once.

The lady laughed, amused.

Embarrassed, Alice made to pull away, but the beautiful woman gripped the girl's hand and covered it with both of her own.

And that was when things got _really_ weird.

At first she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Nearby the trees rustled in the breeze, the birds sang to each other, and the lady still held her hand in her own. It was all there, it was happening. She could see it and smell it and hear it, and yet it was subdued, like background noise. At the same time, Alice felt herself overwhelmed by memory, as if she were daydreaming.

But she hadn't called upon any of those memories.

One moment she was staring up at the Eiffel Tower, the next she sat around the dinner table with her grandparents. One memory after another flitted through her mind, her whole life being flipped through like the pages of a book. Amongst all the bizarre things that had happened to her recently, this was _by far_ the strangest. Alice glanced at the lady's face and, unbidden, another image popped into her head of _another_ unearthly lady dressed in white.

_Galadriel_.

The woman blinked. Her grip tightened.

Suddenly a disjointed scene played before her, an elf queen spoke in the mind of a hobbit and offered to show him the future and in return he offered her…a ring.

_The_ ring.

The lady let go of Alice's hand as if electrocuted.

Alice's clutched her head, her vision still hazy at the edges. The lady stood suddenly, her white dress trailing after her like smoke. Alice looked up at her, utterly bewildered.

"I don't _understand_."

The lady didn't speak, only looked down upon her with the strangest look; both weary and perplexed.

But if anyone had a right to be weary it was Alice. "Who _are_ you?"

Just what kind of voodoo magic had just taken place?

The lady said only one word.

"Galadriel."

And finally Alice saw what she'd failed to see before. And her eyes were opened. And her world shattered.

* * *

She had another breakdown.

It was a doozy.

Somewhere on high the gods were laughing their asses off. Alice couldn't really blame them. Her whole situation had passed ridiculous over a week ago. _And then some_. Maybe she hadn't been so far off with the dream idea after all.

Galadriel must've told Faendis to leave Alice alone because she hadn't seen hide nor hair of anyone since the _Lady of Lothlórien_ had left hours ago. Perhaps that was for the best. Alice wouldn't have wanted to see herself right now either. That night she curled in the corner of the infirmary, and went over theories as to how she got herself into this mess.

Had she pissed off the wrong deity? Was her mind trapped in some weird fantasy while her body lay comatose in a padded cell somewhere? Or _maybe_ this was all a _very_ fucked up drug trip? Could this be limbo? Did that mean she was dead? Was she going to have to help the Fellowship on their quest so she could earn her way to the afterlife? Hey, at this point, _anything_ was possible. By the time the sun had risen, Alice had not only not slept at all, she was no further to the answers to her questions than she'd been at the beginning of this crazy adventure.

Where was she supposed to go from here? Suppose this was all real (a frightening prospect indeed), what did she do? Did she warn Frodo and the Fellowship? Alice had only ever seen the movies but, according to her friend Rachel who was a ginormous Tolkien nerd, the movies left a lot out. Apparently there was something about some _weird_ hippy dude named Tom_ Bomb-something-or-other_ who hung out in the forest, and then Aragorn's elf girlfriend _wasn't_ the one who rescued Frodo on horseback, and _then_ there was an _entire_ chapter or two cut out of the movie about the hobbits saving the shire or something…

You'd think if the Powers That Be were going to send somebody to help save the Fellowship, they'd have sent someone who actually _knew_ the goddamn story. Or maybe even a navy seal. At least _they_ could do _something_. What use was a nineteen year-old girl with no real useful knowledge or experience to speak of?

This was, of course, assuming that this wasn't all one of those weird fanfiction stories that Rachel was so fond of.

If this was the gods' idea of a joke, Alice didn't find it very funny.

So caught up in her own thoughts, Alice didn't notice Faendis arrive with breakfast until she was calling her name. She didn't even know the sun had risen yet. She glanced at her caretaker with fresh eyes, finally _truly_ seeing the lovely creature for what she _really_ was.

Elf.

Those monsters, elves, Lothlórien, Galadriel. All of the pieces fell into place too neatly for Alice to ignore them. She tore into a hunk of bread on the platter set before her and chewed thoughtfully. An idea began to form in her mind. She swallowed and then turned to Faendis. The elf looked at her quizzically. Slowly and deliberately, Alice pointed at the chair in the corner.

"Chair." Thankfully Faendis was quick on the uptake.

"_Ham_."

Alice patted the bed next to her. "Bed."

"_Haust_."

Alice's mind raced. She couldn't stay curled up in the corner forever. So what if this was some weird coma-dream? Was she _really_ going to spend it sitting around _feeling sorry for herself_? Was she _really_ going to continue to let a language barrier wall her off from the rest of society? She'd cried enough. It was time to man the fuck up.

And thus Alice began her Sindarin lessons.

* * *

She called herself _Aleese_.

Such a strange name, but then she was an equally strange woman.

She didn't speak Sindarin. Or even Westron as it turned out. No one really knew what to make of her. She reminded Celírion of a lost fawn; wandering about in a confused fashion and bleating nonsense. She was so very…_peculiar_.

Were _all_ humans so dark? Lord Aragorn certainly wasn't (though he _did_ have elvish blood running through his veins). And her hair!

"I have never seen hair like _that_," Celírion had remarked once to Aegol as they had watched Aleese trail after her guardian.

"Lord Aragorn once spoke of the peoples of far Harad." Aegol replied, following Aleese's movement with a curious eye. "Dark they were, he said, in both body and mind."

Celírion frowned. "She does not seem dark of mind. The Lady would not have let her stay amongst us if it were so."

"No," Aegol said with a shrug. "She would not."

And so had ended that conversation, but not Celírion's interest. Most days he went about his business, going on patrol and relishing the sights and sounds of his beloved wood. But then he would come back to Caras Galadhon and catch a glimpse of its newest resident and his fascination would continue once more. When Celírion discovered that Faendis had taken it upon herself to teach Aleese Sindarin, he had all but leapt at the chance to help.

"Cup," he explained when Aleese had held up her ceramic mug and raised her eyebrows. He grinned. Such expressions she made! She sounded out the word slowly, stumbling over the syllables. Her pronunciation needed work. Celírion said as much to Faendis. Aleese pursed her lips. She always did that when Faendis and he conversed. Poor thing. It must be difficult for her not to understand those around her.

"Take heart Lady Aleese, " Celírion exclaimed cheerfully. "We shall make a native speaker of you yet!"

Aleese exhaled forcefully.

"Al-_iss_," she drew out the two syllables carefully, hissing out the latter between her teeth like a snake. The look on her face was enough to make Celírion feel thoroughly chastised.

"Al…iss?" he repeated, particularly emphasizing the last syllable.

This time, she smiles for him.

* * *

The nausea begins four days after her meeting with Galadriel.

Sometime in the night, Alice was awoken by the tell-tale churning of her stomach and she only barely made it to the chamber pot before she vomited up her dinner. The more mortifying experience however, was when she was forced to show Faendis the contents of said chamber pot in the morning. The elf seemed unconcerned though, and had whisked away the bowl without so much as a wrinkled nose. Alice had assumed that she had contracted some sort of food poisoning and that had been the end of it.

And for the most part Alice felt fine…except for maybe the lethargy that would overcome her unexpectedly…or her continued daily bouts of nausea…also her breasts had begun to feel rather sore (something she could safely say had never happened to her before then)…but she was fine! Really! It seemed however, that even if Alice could fool herself, she couldn't fool the elves. Faendis had begun to worry over her like a new mother and even her new friend, Celírion, had noticed her waning energy and mood. Fucking elves.

And then, one day, Alice realized that she had missed her period.

She panicked.

How _long_ had she been in Middle Earth? A week and half? _Two_ weeks maybe? And how long since she'd last had _sex_? Faintly, she recalled a drunken party in Germany last May and the cute boy she'd met there. Had they used a condom? Alice desperately scoured her memory but didn't come up with much else other than that he'd been blonde and good with his hands…

_How_ could she _not_ remember something so _important_?!

The fear of waking up in the middle of a fictional world had _nothing_ on a pregnancy scare.

Nothing.

Unsurprisingly, she didn't sleep that night.

* * *

**A/N:** Surprise! You're pregnant! You thought showing up in Middle Earth was bad? How about a side of parenthood to top things off? I'm starting to think I enjoy torturing Alice. Maybe just a _little_ bit.

Yay! At over 4700 words, this rewrite is officially a good three times longer than the original first chapter! Now granted I combined the first few chapters and added a bunch of new scenes and sometimes just rewrote existing scenes altogether. Hope this is more coherent and entertaining than the original! As always, let me know what you think, whether good or bad.

This is once again unbetaed, so kindly excuse the mistakes.


	2. The Immigrant

**A/N:** I am horribly sorry it's taken so ridiculously long for this chapter. I recently got a new job (which is awful and is forcing me to already consider job-hunting again) and the hours there are nightmarish. I get three-day weekends to make up for it, but at that point the last thing I usually want to do is write so getting this out has been extra difficult.

To differentiate between the languages, Sindarin conversations and words will be _italicized_ (only during Alice's point-of-view scenes though. Elf point-of-view scenes will be normal).

**History Will Be Kind To Me**

""I am always ready to learn although I do not always like to be taught." - _Winston Churchill_

**02. The Immigrant**

Somewhere between coming to terms with her new 'condition' and valiantly ignoring it, Alice had found she'd been 'adopted'.

They were nothing but gracious and accommodating, her new 'host family', but Alice couldn't shake the feeling that she was being treated like a child. A pregnant child. Oh they were certainly nice enough. The _ellon_ Brandir, was kind and endearing, though usually away for weeks at a time on 'elf business'. His wife Tinuthel on the other hand, had become Alice's lifeline. She was everything her own mother had _never_ been; gentle, affectionate, and unerringly supportive (as well as determined as a raging rhinoceros).

It took even longer to get used to her new 'home' than it did the infirmary. For one thing, she didn't enjoy having to live _over a hundred feet off the ground_. Acrophobic was a rather accurate description of Alice's feelings towards her guardians' home in the trees. The elves seemed to find her aversion to heights 'quaint'.

_Fucking elves_.

Let it not be said that they didn't try to make the transition easier. Brandir and Tinuthel were anything if not welcoming of their new charge. They gifted Alice her own room, pretty but small, it's greatest feature however being the walls decorated with fabulous murals of dazzling elf maidens and delicate birds caught in mid-flight. The headboard of her new bed was carved with a noble stag and a fierce stallion rearing towards one another. Though beautiful, Alice wondered who the room had belonged to for such care to go into its mere decoration. Perhaps they'd had a child once too? That thought alone did much to endear her towards them.

Life was far from easy though.

Pregnant or not, Alice was expected to do her fair share. It wasn't long before Tinuthel had put her to work washing laundry (in one of the many communal tubs Alice had learned were scattered throughout the forest-city), taught her to mend clothing (which she was horrendously bad at), and even once attempted to instruct her in the ways of weaving (…which didn't end well for either parties involved). Usually though, she just fetched water from the stream and trailed after Tinuthel like her dutiful shadow.

Of all the things she'd begun to fill her days with however, Alice found that the most enjoyable was her daily visits with Tinuthel to the bathhouses. Every morning, right after breakfast, Tinuthel and Alice would make the long climb down the steps of their _talan,_ down past the neighboring _mallorn_ trunks to the north-east of the city where two separate white stone buildings stood side-by-side. They reminded Alice heavily of old Roman baths and the interior did little to alleviate that feeling. Like her room, murals decorated the walls in brilliant colors and the ceiling was covered from end to end in a vivid mosaic, meticulously arranged to imitate the night sky.

Alice had never been one to be shy about nudity, but surrounded by naked _ellith_, she felt every bit like an apprehensive thirteen-year old in the middle of the school locker rooms for the first time. But whatever insecurities the girl had, the elvish women seemed intent upon soothing them. Tinuthel, even more lovely in the nude than she was garbed in her beautiful gowns, would rub lavender oil into Alice's skin and the other ellith would marvel over her tight coils of kinky, dark hair. One tried combing it, but Alice had been quick to do that herself.

She had to draw boundaries _somewhere_.

Even stranger to the elves than her hair though were _her tattoos_. They seemed perplexed by the elaborate tree drawn over her spine and completely baffled by the foreign writing etched into her inner arm. If Alice had thought she was self-conscious before, she was doubly so now. How bizarre they must find her, these flawless creatures with their milk-pale skin and unmarked complexions.

Still, it was wonderful to feel _clean_ every day. Alice vowed to _never_ take basic hygiene for granted _ever_ _again_.

* * *

"She has _pictures_ on her _skin_!" gasped Mellessil as she ogled Alice's naked back openly.

"It is rude to stare," remarked Tinuthel pointedly. Her eyes flicked up at the offending elleth as she poured water from a jug over Alice head.

"It looks to be some kind of tree…"

"Why does it not _wash off_?"

"What kind of symbols are _those_?"

"Surely it cannot be _permanent_…"

"I think it might be _scarred_ into her skin…!"

"What _monster_ would scar a female like _that_?!"

Tinuthel heard Alice sigh as the voices grew in volume. She certainly understood the fascination the other ellith held with the girl's _skin-pictures_, but she also knew when to keep her inquisitiveness to herself.

"Our guest may not understand Sindarin, but she can still _hear_ you." All at once, the surrounding ellith quieted, looking rightly ashamed, though still bursting with unanswered questions.

Alice tipped her head back as Tinuthel made to poor water over her scalp again and as she did, she caught the girl's grateful smile.

* * *

Learning Sindarin was torturous. Without any common ground between she and her many willing teachers, trying to wrap Alice's head around the language was a _nightmare_. The grammar was the hardest to grasp. Nouns she knew a plenty, after all it was quite simple to point at an object and immediately have someone tell her the correct word for it. Complex sentences were more difficult. How exactly was one supposed to try and mime 'I don't want to be a mom'?

Right. And then there was _that_.

Tinuthel and her elven kin seemed _particularly_ thrilled at the prospect of Alice's impending motherhood. They weren't subtle about it either. It was nothing but smiles and joy surrounding her on all sides, twenty-four-seven. Perhaps elves couldn't have their own children very often and felt that they had to vicariously live through Alice? It would certainly explain why she had yet to see a pregnant elf around, or even an elven _child_. Sometimes she wished she could share in their elation, but the fact of the matter was that Alice was well and truly _terrified_.

What exactly passed for modern medicine around here? _Leeches_? _Blood-letting_? How many women _died_ in childbirth throughout human history? Would _she_ die in childbirth? And what if she _didn't_ die? Then what? She was barely _nineteen_ years old! She wasn't ready to be a _mother_! And _certainly_ not in Middle Earth! The more Alice thought about these things, the more stressed she became…which was probably bad for the baby.

Mostly she just tried not to think about it.

Which was _hard_.

One particular morning, three weeks into her stay in Lothlórien, Alice had outright refused to get out of bed. Poor Tinuthel had seemed entirely at a loss as to what to do with the girl.

"I'm so scared," she finally admitted to the elleth. The words may have been in English, but the meaning was universal. Tinuthel took one look at the forlorn expression on Alice's face and crawled into bed with her foster-daughter and held the girl in her arms as she broke down crying.

They stayed like that until well into the evening.

Time passed.

Eventually, when Alice's Sindarin failed to improve, she received a visitor bearing a gift. Like her grandmother, Arwen was nothing at all like her movie counterpart. Liv Tyler was beautiful, but Arwen Undómiel was _otherworldly_. She swept into Tinuthel's talan after breakfast like an ethereal princess and had caught Alice quite by surprise, her cup still halfway to her lips. Tinuthel seemed unconcerned though and had curtsied, and her charge found herself scrambling to do the same.

"_Gi suilon, Arwen Undómiel,_" greeted Tinuthel to their most extinguished guest. Alice parroted her foster-mother's words as well and received a kind smile in return. She felt her heart flutter. Though she's never been particularly interested in females before, in that moment she was seriously reconsidering her sexual preferences.

So enamored was Alice with Arwen in fact, that she didn't even notice when the elleth presented her with a book. Embarrassed, she hastily took the proffered object and felt her fingers brush against Arwen's for a breath. It was thick and heavy in her hands and Alice weighed it carefully, admiring the sturdy dark leather and the simple patterned border along its edges. When she made to hand it back, Arwen shook her head, motioning for her to keep it. It took a moment for Alice to realize that the it was meant to be a gift.

"_Oh_, thank you! Ummm, _le fael,_" Alice espoused, bowing deep. At least she knew _those_ words reasonably well. Most days it seemed she was never done using them. Pleased, Arwen smiled. She stayed a little while longer, chatting softly with Tinuthel and coaxing a few more words from Alice before she left.

Alice clutched her newest gift to her chest as she watched her go.

* * *

Eventually, when Tinuthel seemed confident that Alice would no longer get lost on her own (either that or the poor elleth just wanted a break from constantly babysitting the girl), she was allowed to wander off on her own during the afternoons. Alice suspected this was mostly due to the fact that every nearby elf kept a close watch on her anyway but she appreciated the freedom nonetheless. Most days she'd settle near the base of the high mound-wall that acted as the city's boundary-line, at the edge of the city, and write in her new notebook. On these occasions Celírion (the overly cheery ellon from her lessons with Faendis at the infirmary those few weeks before) made a point of joining her. She welcomed his help, reading aloud all of the Sindarin words she'd learnt that day (and studiously copied into her notebook, which had become something of a makeshift dictionary) and he would happily correct her before she hastily scribbled down the proper alteration (quills, Alice had discovered, were not at all as easy to use as the movie's had led her to believe).

Mostly though, he was just distracting.

It was sometime after he asked to braid her hair that Alice began to get the _distinct_ impression that Celírion was _much_ younger than the other elves she had met. Like, a _lot_ younger.

"_You…old?_" she had finally asked one day, face scrunched unattractively as she attempted to find the right words to use.

"_Oh, not at all!_" Celírion laughed, his pretty (_so_ _pretty_) silver hair shimmering in the sunlight. "_I am barely past my second century!_"

Alice, thankfully, could understand Sindarin much better than she spoke it and caught Celírion's answer without much difficulty. Her mind boggled. She _knew_ elves lived a long time, but that didn't mean having it confirmed 'straight from the horse's mouth' made it any less bizarre.

The ellon seemed thoughtful though, and added, "_How old are you Lady Alice?_"

"_Ten and…nine,_" she replied slowly. She still didn't know what the Sindarin word for nineteen was.

"_So young!_" Celírion exclaimed in surprise. Alice supposed that if _he_ was considered young by his own people, she must be barely more than a _child_ in his eyes.

She shrugged.

"_But…you carry a child!_" he continued, still in shock it seemed. Alice wondered how sheltered he'd been in his _short_ life. _Surely_ he must've met other humans before her? "_You must have married quite young!_"

Alice frowned at that. She didn't really know how the elves viewed pre-marital sex but she could guess. Thankfully no one had questioned her condition or how it had come about and she had been hoping to keep it that way. Until _now_ anyway.

"_I no marry,_" Alice stared Celírion straight in the eye, as if daring him to say anything. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut, though his eyes widened considerably. She must seem like a heathen to him.

Eventually though…"_What will you name your child?_"

Now _that_ question, Alice didn't have an answer to.

* * *

Sometimes, Alice couldn't sleep.

Like morning sickness, insomnia seemed to be yet another _gift_ from her unborn child. How thoughtful of them.

One night, after tossing and turning until the moon was high in the sky, Alice finally flung off the covers and decided enough was enough. She struggled to pull on a dress (was it just her, or was it snugger than it had been the last time she'd worn it?) and slipped out of the talan and into the cool night air.

You know what she really needed? A late-night snack. And boy was she craving something fierce.

The municipal 'kitchens' were located just a ways from Celeborn and Galadriel's massive talan at the center of the city. It was primarily used to cook for the Lord and Lady, but it was the unwritten rule that anyone could drop by and pilfer whatever they liked. Which was exactly what Alice had in mind as she marched her way into the stark white building. Apparently at least one of the cooks hadn't gone home yet, because she came upon a pretty elleth in an apron, still bustling about in the kitchens. Immediately recognizing her late-night visitor (everyone seemed to know who Alice was by now), the elf smiled and beckoned for Alice to come inside.

"_Come, come_," she said happily, noticing the way Alice eyed the pie sitting on the table next to her. The elf laughed good-naturedly, and set about preparing her a plate.

As her new guest eagerly devoured the slice before her, the elf introduced herself as Lúthiril.

"_You are still awake,_" Lúthiril observed.

"_No sleep_," Alice replied around a mouthful of blackberry filling. And then amended, "_Baby no sleep_."

Lúthiril nodded, understanding.

And since Alice wasn't likely to be going back to bed anytime soon, Lúthiril decided to teach her how to bake a pie. Having never been able to cook more than soggy eggs, Alice did about as well as she could've hoped. At one point she accidentally fumbled a bowl and flour and consequentially found herself covered in white powder.

Lúthiril burst out laughing.

Without thinking, Alice lobbed a handful of flour at the cook. Lúthiril blinked, caught off guard. And then, with a particularly wicked and _un_-elvish gleam in her eye, she grabbed her own handful from the very bowl still in Alice's arms and sprinkled it over the human's head.

Oh, now _clearly_ this meant _war_.

And quite suddenly the two were running around the kitchen, shrieking like children and painting each other with flour and water and any other substance they could find. Alice had never felt more at home than she did that night, rubbing flour into the elleth's hair and giggling like she was five again.

Later, when she'd helped Lúthiril clean up the mess they'd made and the faintest fingers of dawn began to stretch across the sky, Alice went to bed happily exhausted and dreamed of her friends, both new and old, laughing and sharing blackberry pie together.

* * *

It had finally happened.

It was very difficult to pretend that her pregnancy didn't exist when she could no longer squeeze herself into her own clothing anymore. Tinuthel however, seemed unconcerned by Alice's inner turmoil and set to work altering a couple more dresses until new ones could be made. Hopefully this meant the end of form-fitted waistlines. She'd always felt terribly self-conscious in those dresses anyway.

Of course the more obvious the signs of Alice's pregnancy became, the more everyone seemed intent upon helping her. Whether it was helping Tinuthel on her daily errands or assisting (i.e. awkwardly hovering behind) Lúthiril in the kitchens, elves came out of the woodwork to bend over backwards for her. Somewhere between one elleth inviting herself to help Alice with hanging the laundry and another deciding that she shouldn't be eating spicy foods, Alice found herself growing more and more annoyed with each new encounter. So it seemed only natural that when Lúthiril invited her human friend on a sojourn outside the city to visit the orchards, Alice had jumped at the opportunity to leave all the nosy elves behind for the day.

Lothlórien grew all of its food in gardens and orchards just beyond the walls of Caras Galadhon. Alice should have known that these gardens would be nothing like their human counterparts back home. Apple trees grew alongside olive trees and grapevines slithered up the trunks of lemon trees. Only amongst the elves would sub-tropical plants and temperate ones grow together harmoniously. Alice even thought she spied a small orange grove further down the path somewhere. Well that would certainly explain how Tinuthel's talan always smelled like orange peels.

Lúthiril was quick to set Alice to work pulling weeds. It was tiring work, more exhausting than it would've been only a couple months before. Damn this pregnancy leeching all her energy! But Alice was anything if not determined, and she used all of her frustration to fuel her righteous crusade in tearing up every weed she could find. By the time late afternoon rolled around, Lúthiril found her angrily uprooting a particularly stubborn weed with reckless abandon.

It soon became custom for Alice to accompany Lúthiril to the gardens every other day after lunch. And yet some days she found herself wandering amongst the fruit trees and vegetable patches without a chaperone at all. Alice didn't particularly think of herself as a gardener, but the orchard was peaceful and the few elves working there rarely bothered her. And if she decided to eat the odd apple instead of putting it in her basket with the others, nobody seemed bothered by it. Nobody seemed bothered by her ill-pitched singing in English either. That or they were just very polite.

It was on one such day, warbling the words to _Ring of Fire_, that she was cornered by Celírion.

"_What song is it that you sing?_"

Alice jumped, dropping the apple she'd just plucked from its branch. Lightning-quick, the silver-haired ellon caught it easily and gently set in her basket amongst its kin.

"Showoff," Alice muttered under her breath. Celírion smiled, hearing the word but not understanding it.

"_I did not mean to startle you,_" the ellon exclaimed smoothly. "_I only wondered what song you sang_."

By now Alice could comprehend most of what was said to her, but speaking Sindarin was still a trial she wrestled with every day.

"_I not sing good,_" she told him brokenly, still embarrassed he'd heard her pathetic crooning when every song sung by the elves sounded like the hymns of angels.

"_Not bad,_" Celírion explained with a strange look on his face. "_Only different_."

But Alice shook her head, knowing he was only being nice. She knew quite well her singing sounded like the cries of a dying animal.

"_Will you not sing again?_" he asked, sounding strangely hopeful.

Horrified, Alice shook her head. Celírion looked almost disappointed. Almost.

"_Well then perhaps I shall sing for you?_" but he didn't even stop to hear her answer before launching into a lilting, cheery tune. Something about trees and flowers, though not that it mattered. He could sing about animals fornicating and she'd find it just as charming.

Celírion seemed not only intent upon providing background music for Alice, but also helping her pick the fruit she couldn't reach and carrying her basket when it grew too heavy. Normally she'd be irritated by this behavior, but he wasn't going out of his way to do everything _for_ her. He only picked apples when she asked and only became her pack mule when she shoved the basket into his arms. He was nothing if not eager to please.

By the time the sun began set, Alice had more fruit than she could carry and a new song stuck in her head. Celírion accompanied her back through the gates of the city and all the way to the kitchens to drop off the day's load of produce. Lúthiril was most amused by Alice's new companion and was sure to comment upon it after he'd left.

"_He sing to me,_" Alice said when Lúthiril had raised a perfect black eyebrow at her.

"_He is young,_" the elleth explained conversationally as she lifted Alice's basket with elvish ease and carried it into the kitchen. "_He has never seen another human save yourself._"

"Yes. _He tell me,_" Alice replied. She glanced over at Lúthiril and didn't even _try_ to bother guessing at _her_ age. Physically nobody around here looked over the age of twenty-five.

"_Did he?_" Lúthiril smiled knowingly.

Alice side-eyed her companion. Now what did _that_ mean?

But Lúthiril was already moving into the kitchen, putting a temporary end to the conversation.

Annoyed, she tried not to think too hard about it. She already let everything else keep her up at night as it was. She didn't need to add anything else to the ever-growing pile of worries.

* * *

It was nearly two months into her stay in Lothlórien that Alice finally mustered up the courage to ask for a razor.

Elves had no body hair, as Alice had discovered upon her first trip to the bathhouse. But Alice was human and as such she had two months-worth of leg and underarm hair that direly needed to be shaved pronto. The elleth at the baths never commented on it, too polite as always, and her dresses were all long-sleeved and fell to her feet so most people never even saw the forest that was steadily growing on her limbs anyway. Still, that didn't mean that she was willing to live with it any longer. Something needed to be done.

Just before their daily trip to the bathhouse, Alice posed the question to her 'mother'.

"_Tinuthel,_" she asked hesitantly as they gathered their soaps and a change of clothes and stuffed them into a wicker basket. The elleth 'hmmm'ed in response, glancing up at Alice as she neatly folded a dress. "_I need knife,_" Alice didn't know the word for razor. Tinuthel was looking at Alice fully now, her dress forgotten.

"_And what do you need this knife for?_"

Alice lifted the hem of her dress in response, baring her leg. "_I need no hair,_" and then corrected, "_I want no hair._"

Tinuthel just looked politely confused.

"_My home, we cut hair,_" Alice tried to elaborate. "_This hair._" She gestured to her legs.

Thankfully, Tinuthel seemed to understand where Alice was going with this and briefly disappeared into her room before returning with a dagger. She deposited it into their basket and nothing more was said as they made their way to the bathhouse.

Once they were undressed and soaking in the water however, Tinuthel made it clear that it would be _she_ who would be shaving Alice's legs. As embarrassed as she was though, she could understand the practicality of such a gesture. The dagger looked sharp enough to slice her skin off, let alone her hair. Still, it was a very awkward experience to have such a beautiful, _hairless_ female shave Alice's coarse dark body hair. She was _very_ glad when the whole ordeal was over with. She made a point to remember to ask Tinuthel to teach her how to do that herself.

But her legs were smooth again! At long last!

It was the small accomplishments that kept her sane these days.

* * *

It was when the summer heat _really_ began to set in that Arwen invited Alice to a picnic. In the _shade_ of course. Even the elves, it seemed, disliked the direction this _particularly_ blistering summer was taking. They sat amongst the flowers and nibbled on sweets and Alice tried her best not to look like an idiot around her new 'friend', as Arwen had insisted she now be called.

She was terribly sweet, Arwen. She didn't even know people like her existed until she came here. Arwen also, Alice delightfully discovered, had a sense of humor.

"_How long, do you think, will it take them before they notice I have gone?_" Arwen wondered aloud wryly as they distantly glimpsed a harried city guard sprinting across the lawn of Galadriel's Garden. Apparently Arwen had 'skipped out' on a meeting with a boring scholar and had conveniently failed to notify her hand-maidens of her last-minute plans.

Alice laughed.

"_You should not torture them so,_" a smooth voice chastised. Alice turned and just caught sight of a tall man appear from behind a tree. She sucked in a breath.

He was _human_!

Arwen suddenly lit up, her smile and joy infectious. Alice slowly glanced from the elleth next to her to the man standing before them.

"_Estel!_" Arwen laughed happily, moving to make room for him next to her. He did so easily, smiling back at her as if he'd never seen anything as beautiful in his life.

Suddenly, it clicked.

"_Aragorn!_" Alice nearly shouted. She stared at the man in wonder and he stared back at her curiously.

"_Yes,_" Aragorn nodded. "_Though I do not believe we have met._"

"_This is Alice._" Arwen introduced her friend and Alice shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "_She is the one Grandmother spoke of._" Now _that_ was news to Alice. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Lady of Lothlórien since their first meeting nearly two months ago. A fact Alice was quite happy with. Galadriel, though kind, unnerved her like no other.

"_Yes, I have heard much of your new guest,_" replied Aragorn as he briefly bowed his head in Alice's direction. "_I am pleased to meet you Lady Alice._"

"_Thank you,_" Alice whispered, suddenly shy. "_I honored._"

"_I hear you did not speak Sindarin when you arrived,_" Aragorn said, smily encouragingly. "_It has much improved it seems._"

"_Yes,_" she murmured, embarrassed to be the center of attention.

Thankfully though, Alice watched as the couple's focus began to turn away from her and onto each other. Recognizing when she was the third wheel in such a situation, she quietly thanked Arwen and excused herself. Better to allow them their time alone. She had no idea what the rules of courtship were in Middle Earth, but she imagined it involved _chaperones_.

Poor things were probably _dying_ to be alone so they could make out.

Before she got too far away however, Alice found herself joined by Celírion. He loped alongside her happily and when he looked down at her (he was _so tall_!) she noticed for the first time that his eyes were the same particular shade of turquoise as his tunic.

"_Hello Lady Alice!_" _God_, he was always so damn _cheerful_.

Alice quickly 'shushed' him, afraid his boisterous greeting would ruin Arwen and Aragorn's 'alone time'.

"_Arwen and Aragorn there,_" she explained quietly, motioning behind her. "_No bother them._"

Intrigued, Celírion glanced over Alice's shoulder and then grinned.

"_The Lady Arwen looks _very_ happy,_" He remarked conspiratorially. Alice smiled, despite herself.

"_Yes,_" she giggled. "_We go now._"

And then the two stumbled all the way back to Alice's talan, giggling like little girls.

* * *

At the end of summer (though Alice was sure it couldn't have been further than August), the elves threw a party.

Tinuthel called it _Laer_, an annual festival marking the end of the season. The city was in a flurry of activity days beforehand, cooking, decorating, and setting up. Tables and chairs were brought down and set up under the great mallorn tree in the center of the city (where the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn lived), Lúthiril was endlessly busy in the kitchens preparing a feast, and Tinuthel had roped Alice into helping string up colorful lanterns and garlands of flowers throughout the city.

On the day of the festival, everyone dressed up. Alice had cried when she'd been gifted a lovely gauzy green dress to wear and Tinuthel, already a vision draped in lilac muslin, had twisted her usually untamable hair into a coronet of braids with pretty little flowers. Upon seeing her, Brandir had gallantly kissed Alice's hand and called her 'pretty'. When the family descended down to join their neighbors for the festivities, Alice could only stare in wonderment at the transformation of the normally reserved elves into their fey merrymaking counterparts.

Alice quickly learned that when the elves partied, they _really_ partied.

It was everything she imagined an elvish festival to be and more. Everywhere elves danced and laughed and feasted and in the middle of it all were the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien, seated upon a dais, looking down upon their people like a couple of doting parents upon their many children. Alice found herself completely overwhelmed by it all by the time she sat down at a table with Tinuthel and Brandir. Somewhere amongst the revelers, she spied Arwen and Aragorn dancing to a lively tune.

There was more food than Alice knew what to do with at her table. Brandir heaped her plate full of roasted meats and equally roasted vegetables (it seemed that even the elves were no strangers to barbecued fair) with the care of a devoted father and Tinuthel only laughed at Alice's expression when her eyebrows shot into her hairline.

"_You want me eat _all_ this?_" she's asked incredulously. She may have been pregnant but she wasn't _that_ pregnant. But Brandir seemed unfazed by Alice's skepticism and soon swept his wife into a dance when the music changed to a more jaunty melody, leaving his foster-daughter to her dinner. She shook her head at her 'parents', though was secretly thrilled to see them so lively and for once engaged with one another instead of herself. They deserved a break. Taking care of a clueless pregnant girl day in and day out couldn't have been easy.

For a while Alice didn't take part in the festivities, only watched and listened. Apparently this was unacceptable to Brandir though, who suddenly appeared to drag her off for a dance. Unfortunately for her though, it wasn't at all like any kind of dancing she was used to. All of the ellith stood side by side in a row and parallel to them stood a line of ellyn. And the steps! There were honest-to-God steps she was expected to know! It took a few rounds before Alice got the hang of it but even then she knew she looked completely ridiculous amongst all of the fey creatures following the exact same movements (but a _hundred_ times better). After three songs, she returned to her table dizzy and thoroughly out of breath.

"_Drink this,_" Lúthiril appeared at her side and handed her a cup of water. Alice accepted it gratefully, gulping down its contents loudly.

"_You danced well,_" Faendis stepped from the crowd and Alice greeted her eagerly, happy to see her old caretaker once again. She was even more lovely than usual, dressed in a brilliant blue gown and her white-blonde hair crowned with a circlet of matching blue flowers.

Alice made a face. "_No. Me no dance good_."

"_Nonsense!_" cried a familiar voice merrily. Well Celírion was _definitely_ in a far more _buoyant_ mood than he usually was. Alice noted the cup of wine in his hand and idly wondered how well elves could hold their liquor. As he settled next to her on the bench she saw its contents slosh a bit.

Elf or not, Alice quickly discovered that her friend was a complete lightweight. Not for the first time, she cursed her pregnancy. If it wasn't for her current condition, she would be drinking him under the table right now.

"_You are most lovely today Lady Alice!_" Celírion declared. "_Fairer even than the stars!_"

Alice, despite being used to Celírion's foolish antics, spluttered unintelligibly.

"_That is quite the proclamation,_" Lúthiril giggled. Alice glared at her friend.

_Traitor_.

Thankfully, Faendis was still on her side. She deftly stole Celírion's cup from his drink-loosened fingers and held it high when he vainly attempted to fetch it back. "_Perhaps you should keep to water for the rest of the evening._"

"_But this is Laer! What else am I to drink on such a night but wine?!_" The ellon complained.

"Oh please," Alice murmured in English when Celírion reached yet again for the cup in the healer's hand.

"_Not when you can barely walk straight,_" Faendis replied with a distinctly _un_-elvish roll of her eyes.

Celírion ignored her though, in favor of pestering Alice for English lessons.

"_How does one say 'unhand my wine' in your language?_"

"You're an idiot," Alice muttered.

"Eww…arrrr…ann…idheeott…" Celírion repeated back in Faendis's direction and Alice snorted as she held in a laugh.

Faendis made a face.

"_You sound ridiculous,_" she said.

And then Brandir appeared again, his wife hanging from his arm with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. He looked down at Celírion with an odd expression on his face. Alice glanced from her foster-father to her friend and back again.

Finally he said, "_Your mother is looking for you._"

That seemed to do the trick. Celírion jumped to his feet (_still_ ever graceful despite being well and truly tipsy) and bowed to the elder ellon with a flourish, casting Alice an impish smile before he bounded away like a deer. Lúthiril just laughed, amused, before she too disappeared into the crowd. Alice blinked. What had just happened?

"_Was he bothering you?_" Brandir asked, every bit the over-protective father-figure.

"_No more than he usually does I imagine,_" Tinuthel smiled. An unreadable look passed between the couple and then suddenly it was like the whole incident had never occurred and her foster-parents were settling on either side of her.

The night wore on.

Though Elvish festivals typically ran well into the early morning hours, Alice didn't even make it to midnight before she fell asleep with the sounds of frolicking elves around her. She never even felt Brandir carry her to bed.

**A/N:** The song Alice sings in the orchard is _Ring of Fire_ by Johnny Cash. The songs I listened to heavily while writing the festival scene are _The Dance_ by Bear McCreary and _Epicy_ by Kíla (apparently I just imagine Elvish party music to sound like fun Irish jigs).


End file.
